Par For The Course
by lovethebelstaff
Summary: Molly can't remember what she did after drinking too much last night. Sherlock is going to help her retrace her steps to see if he can jog her memory.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Ok, this is my first post ever of fanfic, so be gentle. I own nothing but the gut-wrenching anxiety and indecision of posting this. Thanks.

Chapter 1

Molly woke lying on her side, she stretched tentatively feeling the stiffness in her muscles. She moved her head slightly and was answered by a dull pain somewhere in the back of her head. Way too much to drink last night. She didn't even dare open her eyes, she could tell there was entirely too much sunlight streaming in the window. She stretched a little more and was startled when her hand brushed against something behind her in the bed. Her eyes flew open, yes it was her bed. And she wasn't alone.

_Oh, God, what have I done?_

She lay absolutely still listening to the deep regular breathing coming from behind her and quickly took stock of the situation. She was naked, completely naked. Her clothes were strewn about the floor and there were others, dark colors mixed in with her brights. She wracked her brain trying to remember what had happened last night. The last thing she could remember clearly was ordering another round of drinks at the pub. She had gone with friends, but she remembered talking to a man. Maybe dancing? The rest was a blank.

Molly tried frantically to figure out what to do. This had never happened before. She had never brought home someone she had just met, and she had never slept with a stranger before. Shame washed over her and her face and body burned with it. How could she have been so stupid? She needed to get out of this bed and get dressed**.** But she had to move very slowly because she didn't want to wake him.

Molly rolled onto her back and steeled herself, she looked over at the man beside her and recognition struck her as a physical pain, a sharp blow to her chest that took her breath away. Involuntarily she gasped aloud, her hand flying to her mouth to silence any further sound. There beside her, his dark curls mussed, his face smooth and peaceful in sleep, lay Sherlock Holmes. And he was naked. Molly's eyes traveled down the length of his pale chest to his waist where the blanket covered the rest of him from sight. Did she dare peek? Molly slowly lifted the edge of the blanket up and stole a look at what lay beneath. Her face flushed and she dropped the blanket back down. Molly's face burned, she couldn't catch her breath and she lay there trying desperately to calm her breathing. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

Sherlock started to stir. He opened those glorious blue green eyes and looked into hers. She felt like he could see right through her soul, read every one of her thoughts in her eyes. She didn't know how this had happened, but she couldn't let him know that. It was getting harder to fill her lungs with air.

Sherlock sat up immediately concerned, "Molly are you ok? What's wrong?"

She couldn't answer, just managed to shake her head. He watched her a moment, struggling for breath, clutching the sheet to her chest, her knuckles white then jumped out of bed and rushed from the room. Molly could only stare at his incredible body as he left, she was beginning to think that this was an hallucination. There were white shooting lights along the edges of her vision and darkness was starting to close in. She felt her consciousness beginning to slip away when she was aware of something being pressed over her face. She was pulled to a sitting position and she felt Sherlock slide onto the bed behind her propping her up and holding her in his arms.

"Breathe Molly. Try and take a deep breath. It's going to be ok." That deep baritone whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck.

The fact that she was here naked in his arms did not help decrease her anxiety. It only increased it. It was a few minutes before her gasping began to slow and she was finally able to fill her lungs deeply. That was when she realized that Sherlock was holding a paper bag over her nose and mouth. Once her breathing was regulated and her vision cleared she pushed the bag away.

"Better?"

Molly nodded but sat there with her head bowed and her hair down across her face trying to hide the clash of emotions raging inside of her. She felt embarrassed, humiliated. She had no memory of how she had ended up here with Sherlock, something she had always dreamed of, but she knew she was making a fool of herself.

Sherlock ran his hands up her arms, she shuddered. "Are you sure you're ok? What happened?" He started to rub her back.

"I…I" Molly couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. A new thought struck her dumb. Sex. It somehow hadn't occurred to her before. She had been stunned just trying to wrap her head around the present moment_. Did we, did I…?_ Her stomach lurched and Molly jumped from the bed running for the bathroom. She slammed the door, locked it and was immediately sick. She huddled over the toilet until her stomach was empty.

Sherlock listened to her being sick and slowly started to dress. Probably the alcohol, but maybe she was having second thoughts. Perhaps she regretted her behavior the night before. He decided he would be the gentleman and give her an out.

"Molly, do you want me to go?" Sherlock asked through the door sounding concerned and confused.

Shame and embarrassment burned anew, burned her from the inside out. She was getting everything she had ever wanted and in a horrible twist of fate, she couldn't remember. Now she was making a complete fool of herself in front of the one person whose opinion mattered to her the most. She needed to pull herself together and figure out what to do next. She didn't want him to know that she couldn't remember whatever had happened between them. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. And she didn't want him to leave. She never wanted him to leave.

"No…No. I just…too much to drink last night. I'll be right out." Molly splashed some water on her face, brushed her teeth and hair and looked frantically around for something to cover herself. She grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around herself, took a quick look in the mirror and headed back to the bedroom.

Sherlock was nowhere to be found and his clothes were gone, she started to panic, but then she heard sounds from the kitchen. Thankful for the privacy Molly looked around for some clothes, but Sherlock was back before she could change.

"Well, that was not quite the reaction I had been hoping for." Sherlock stood in the doorway drinking a cup of coffee, he offered her a second one and a couple of aspirin. She took the cup and just looked at it not trusting her stomach.

"I'm sorry. I really am. It…It was wonderful," Molly stumbled over her words and looked away embarrassed. She hoped to God that he didn't know she was lying.

"Yeah, well…" Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he looked her over suspiciously.

Molly popped the pills into her mouth and took a small sip of coffee to wash them down.

A mischievous little smile touched the corner of his mouth. "What was your favorite part?"

Molly choked on the coffee, "What?!"

"What was your favorite part of the night?"

Molly took another gulp of coffee to avoid answering and her stomach threatened to return it. "I…It was all so…," her voice trailed off.

"You don't remember do you?" Molly looked up at him sharply. She was afraid he would be hurt, but he just stood there grinning at her. She quickly figured that she could play this one of two ways, she could get upset, and what would that serve, or she could join him in the humor of the situation. She chose the latter.

"Oh God, Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you. I just, I can't… definitely too much to drink." She smiled tentatively back at him and was surprised when he began to laugh.

"I suppose my feelings should be hurt, but honestly Molly Hooper, it's not often that we get a second chance to make a first impression." Sherlock set his coffee cup down and approached her. He took her cup and set it aside. Then he took her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers, never breaking eye contact. He was so slow and so gentle. He ran his tongue along her mouth and she immediately granted him entrance. She felt his hands in her hair as he kissed her deeply. She tried to memorize every sensation, the feel of his hands on her face, the scent of him, the taste of him. She raised her hands, almost afraid to touch him, she slid the fingers of one hand through his curls, holding his mouth to hers. The other hand went to his shoulder feeling his body beneath the taught shirt. A small moan escaped her lips and he pulled back to look into her eyes.

"Ah, but if I'm to get a second chance, I intend to make the most of it. And I want you feeling your best." He let go of her and stepped away. Molly was left kiss stung and wanting. She put her fingers to her mouth, where his had been moments before.

"I'll be happy to fill in the blanks, but not now. I have somewhere I need to be and you need to get ready for work." He gave her another quick kiss on the cheek and left, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be in touch."

When he was gone Molly just stood there in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel drinking her cup of coffee. In what universe could this be reality, because it certainly wasn't her universe.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thank you for the reviews and the encouragement. This story will probably be 3 chapters, maybe 4. Thank you for reading.**

Chapter 2

Molly showered and dressed then headed to Bart's. She found that it was nearly impossible to keep her mind on her work. She kept trying to remember what had happened the night before. She would get little glimpses, fuzzy recollections, but none of them solved the mystery of how she had woken up with Sherlock. She supposed she could call one of her friends, they might know, but somehow she didn't really want to talk about it yet. It was like a secret that only she and Sherlock shared right now and she wanted to keep it that way.

It was late in the afternoon and Molly was working hard to clear her cases for the day. She had been badly distracted and everything seemed to have taken twice as long. She was also jumpy. She looked up at every noise and checked her phone at every alert, hoping that it would be Sherlock. He said he would be in touch, but he didn't say when. Her day had dragged on and she had about given up hope when the morgue door swung open and Sherlock, John and DI Lestrade entered.

"Molly we need to see a body." Sherlock's voice sent a thrill through her. She felt herself blush and turned quickly towards the body drawers. She couldn't help picturing him naked.

"Stop it!" she said to herself under her breath, hoping no one else had heard her.

"That's not what you said last night." Sherlock whispered into her ear. She hadn't realized he had followed her, or that he was so close to her. He chuckled as Molly's breath caught in her throat.

Molly fought to keep her voice steady, "Who do you want to see?" But she couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she reached for the drawer he indicated. He covered her hand with his, it was so warm, and helped her open the compartment. Molly was glad that his body blocked John and Greg's view though they didn't seem to be paying much attention at the moment. They waited by the table talking about the latest football game.

Sherlock was not behaving the way Sherlock usually did. He seemed downright playful. He was taking great joy in her discomfort and she decided that given the opportunity, she would make him pay for this. She didn't know what had happened between them to cause this change and she regretted deeply that she couldn't remember.

Molly kept herself busy at the counter while Sherlock examined the body and consulted with Lestrade. When they had finished and Lestrade had left, Molly eavesdropped on Sherlock and John.

"Why don't you come by tonight? Mary's making dinner, enough to feed an army." Molly listened curious to hear his answer.

"Sorry, John, can't tonight. I have a very important experiment that needs my attention." Molly looked up at Sherlock and he winked at her. She looked back down at her work trying to hide her smile.

"Right, well, Molly how about you? Plenty to go around." Molly was a little startled.

"Oh, well," she glanced at Sherlock who was bent down paying close attention to the body before him. He wasn't looking at her, but she could tell he was listening intently. "I'm sorry, John, thank you for the invitation, but I already have plans. Tell Mary I'm sorry. Maybe another time?"

"Of course, definitely. Well, I better get going, she'll be expecting me." John put on his coat, said his goodbyes and left. He left Sherlock and Molly alone in the morgue.

Molly tried to ignore Sherlock's presence while she cleaned up her station and got ready to lock up for the night. She could feel his eyes on her and it was quite disconcerting. Is this how she had made him feel watching him while he worked?

She was extremely nervous, not knowing what to expect. Her world had turned upside down and she didn't know if she was coming or going. All she could do was to take it as it came. She felt very out of control. Sherlock seemed to read her thoughts. He crossed the room and helped her on with her coat.

"Do you trust me?"

Molly swallowed hard. _Did she trust him? _If she were being perfectly honest, no, not all the time, but right at this moment? "Yes," she whispered.

* * *

Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her to the curb where he hailed a cab. It was a short ride and Molly was a little puzzled when they stopped in front of the pub she had been drinking at the night before. She looked questioningly at Sherlock as he paid the cabbie.

"I want to perform a little experiment," was all he said as he led her inside and to a table near the bar. "I want to see if I can jog your memory, so we are going to go through what you did last night." Molly started to protest, but he cut her off, "but without the alcohol. You better stick to fruit juice tonight. I want this time to be memorable."

Guilt washed over her, "I'm really sorry. I.." Molly didn't know what else to say. She felt guilty because obviously something monumental had happened between them that couldn't remember. All day doubts and questions had nagged at her. What had he said to her? If she was so inebriated how could she have been coherent? What had she said to him? How much had the alcohol loosened her tongue? She was almost afraid to remember. She had loved this man for years and he hadn't seemed to return those feelings. Sure, he cared about her, but she had thought that was only as a friend. So, what had passed between them to cause this shift? She wasn't complaining, it was all she had ever hoped for, but it seemed surreal. Without the memory she couldn't really believe what was happening. Every time he touched her was like an accusation. She wanted so much to feel like she had permission to return his attentions, but she felt herself holding back, unsure and wary of being hurt again.

Sherlock took her hand in his. He could see the doubt in her eyes and he hated himself for ever giving her cause to doubt him. "We can leave if you like." Again he was giving her an out.

Molly looked at his hand covering hers. His long fingers warm on her cold skin. She didn't want this to end. She was a little afraid to remember what she had said or done last night when she was so drunk, but Sherlock already knew and here he was. So, it couldn't have been that bad. Surely not worse than hyperventilating and vomiting in front of him this morning, naked. What did she really have to lose? It seemed that she had already gained more than the embarrassment of the memory might cost.

Molly looked up into his eyes, they were more green tonight than blue. Funny that she hadn't noticed how they changed before, but then again, she hadn't had much chance to sit and stare into them before. "No, we can stay." Sherlock looked pleased.

"So, does any of this ring a bell?" he asked.

Molly looked around at the pub full of people. "I remember meeting a couple of friends and we sat over there," she indicated a table in the corner. "We started with drinks, then had a couple of shots. Then we went and danced." Molly looked at the dance floor, it wasn't as crowded tonight but it was early still. She watched the scene play out in her memory. She had danced with friends, then she remembered a man. He was tall, blonde hair, but try as she might she couldn't remember his face, probably because it hadn't been important. She did remember him putting his arms around her. Molly blushed but didn't look at Sherlock, she was embarrassed, and she was sure he could see it on her face. They had danced awhile, and he had started getting a little more aggressive. She remembered him pulling her close and grinding himself against her. She hadn't minded at the time. She had gone out that night because she had been feeling down and very lonely, so she had welcomed the attention. It had made her feel attractive and desirable.

But this is where things started getting a little fuzzier. They had gone to sit again, in a booth somewhere in the back. There were more shots and she didn't remember seeing her friends after that. She had a vague impression that they had been kissing, then maybe being outside, it was cold. The next thing she remembered clearly was waking up in her room, with Sherlock.

"I need a drink." Molly declared and headed for the bar. "She had expected Sherlock to protest, but he remained at the table waiting for her to return. This time Molly decided to stick to beer. Her stomach couldn't take hard liquor today, but she definitely needed some liquid courage. While she was standing at the bar she had another flash of memory. She remembered walking past this spot and heading to the back hall. She took her beer from the bar and took a sip wondering where she might have been going. Making up her mind, she took a long draw off of the beer and placed it back on the bar and headed for the hall.

Molly stood in the dim hall and looked both ways. There were restrooms ahead, maybe she had used the loo. She walked to the Ladies room and opened the door to look around. She was familiar with the restroom, she had been to this pub several times before, but it didn't feel right to her. She didn't think she had come in here last night. She closed the door and continued on down the hall. She remembered the click of her heels on the wooden floor. There was an exit sign illuminated ahead and a short corridor that ran off to the right. Molly stood at the intersection and looked in both directions. She remembered being cold, maybe she had gone outside. She pushed the exit door open and found that it accessed an alley that ran from the back of the bar out to the main street. There were several trash dumpsters that looked vaguely familiar. She had a quick flash of memory. Somehow she knew what that brick wall felt like pressed up against her back. Molly turned back to the bar and let the door slam behind her.

She grabbed her beer off of the bar and rejoined Sherlock at their table. He had been checking his text messages on his phone, but looked up curiously as she approached.

"Are you ready to talk about it?"

"I'm not nearly drunk enough yet." Molly said as she finished the beer and signaled for another one.

"What do you remember?" he asked setting his phone aside.

"I'll tell you what I don't remember. You." Molly said a little sharper than she had intended. Molly regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth, but Sherlock didn't seem to be bothered by it. She took a deep breath, "Apparently I remember making a fool out of myself, par for the course, but where do you come in?"

"I came in about the time you walked out to the alley." He took in the blank look on her face and gave her a small smile. "You might want to check your text messages."

"My text mes…?" Molly fished her phone from the striped bag. She pressed a few buttons, accessed her mailbox and quickly scanned the messages. She had sent several messages to Sherlock's number last night. She scrolled back looking for the earliest text.

1:37 AM - So drunk. Might do something stupid. MH

1:39 AM - Please stop me. MH

Molly's face burned, she set the phone aside and took another long drink. "So, I called you for help. And you…?" She could barely look him in the eyes.

"I got here as soon as I could. Almost too late." He said ruefully.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I overheard you making plans when I was in the lab. I knew you were planning on meeting some people here." Molly filed the fact that he had been paying attention to her away to examine at a later time.

"What did you mean 'almost too late'?" she asked afraid of the answer.

"I couldn't find you when I got here. But your coat was over a chair by the table, so I knew you were still here somewhere."

"I checked the dance floor first, then the restrooms, the only place left was the alley.

Molly took another drink of her beer. As he spoke she began to remember bits and pieces of what had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Well, this is the final chapter. I thought of breaking it into two, but that would make for a very short Ch. 3. I hope you enjoyed this story. Thank you for the reviews, they have been encouraging. I may have to post more of my stories. Thanks for reading!**

**Chapter 3**

Molly followed the tall, blonde man down the hallway and he pushed the exit door open for her. She stumbled a little over the threshold and he grabbed her around the waist. They were alone in the alley and it was a cold night, she hadn't taken her coat and she was wearing a short skirt and heels. He pressed her up against the wall and was kissing her forcefully. She felt trapped when he started to run his hand up her leg and under her skirt. Molly had second thoughts and started to resist. She tried to push him away, but he stronger than she was, then she heard the alley door open and a split second later the man was yanked backwards and she was free.

The man whirled around ready for a fight.

"The lady doesn't want your attentions." Sherlock said as he shoved him aside.

"Who the hell are you?" He said blocking Molly with his body.

"Not important."

"Well, I want to hear it from her."

Both men turned to look at her. She looked from one to the other, eyes wide and uncertain.

"Sherlock?" She was startled when he walked over to her and took her into his arms and kissed her intensely, but she responded instantly, so willingly.

The man behind them just growled, "Bitch!" and slammed back into the pub.

Sherlock pulled back and cupped her face in his hands, she could feel the cold leather of his gloves. Molly was trembling from emotion and the cold night air. Sherlock released her momentarily to unbutton the Belstaff then he stepped close to her again, holding her body close to his he wrapped his coat around her small frame. He looked down at her, her brown eyes were feverishly bright, her pupils dilated. He could smell the alcohol on her warm breath. Her breathing was rapid and shallow and her skin was flushed and he knew it was from more than just the cold night air.

Sherlock knew the timing was less than perfect, but this had been completely unplanned. When he had gotten her text he knew he had to find her quickly. She wouldn't have contacted him unless it was urgent. Molly had never asked him for anything before. She had always kept her distance.

He knew how Molly felt about him, but only recently had he begun to notice how he felt about her. He looked forward to having to visit the lab and he was disappointed if she wasn't around when he got there. He made excuses to be at the lab more than was necessary. And he had started observing the little things like what she was wearing, how she was wearing her hair, the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her perfume, how her eyes crinkled when she was concentrating intently on an autopsy. He found that her laugh or smile seemed to make him happy and he found himself wondering throughout the day what she was doing. He also realized that he was a little jealous. He was surprised when the feeling had welled up in him one day when he caught Lestrade watching her.

So when he had gotten her text he came. He came without thinking about what it meant. And when he found her in the arms of another man everything became crystal clear. He wanted her to be his. For once he was not going to over think it. He had spent too long trying to deny his feelings and wasted so much time. Now he was going to spend his time making it up to Molly, if she would have him. Molly who had suffered so long, who he had hurt too many times. But not anymore.

He stood there a moment holding her in his coat, his arms wrapped around her. Molly was warm in his cocoon. She wasn't thinking about what it meant, she wasn't even thinking it was real, alcohol clouded her judgment and at this late hour she had no inhibitions left to temper her actions. If she had been sober, Molly would never have the nerve to lean up and kiss the consulting detective, but she did just that. With her heels on she was a little taller than normal so standing on her toes she was able to place her mouth over his. Her kiss was insistent. Her body was pressed to his and she ran her hands across his chest and up his back to his shoulders. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the Belstaff, but Molly made her need known. Sherlock quit listening to his mind and started listening to his body. He had suppressed his physical desires for so many years. And standing here holding his pathologist in his arms just felt right. His desire was as urgent as hers. He wanted to explore every inch of her and bury himself inside of her. But not here. He didn't want a quick fuck in an alley, he wanted to make love to her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Molly drained her beer and placed the glass on the table. Two beers in less than an hour. She was definitely feeling buzzed. She had listened to Sherlock describe how he had found her in the alley and then taken her home. She still didn't remember texting him, only vaguely remembered him holding her to keep her warm, and none of the cab ride, or what happened at the flat. She had had enough to drink tonight to make her brave enough to ask. "So, what happened when you took me home? There seems to be something missing."

Sherlock smiled, knowing exactly what she was hinting at. "Well, for the rest of the story we need to continue to retrace our steps from last night." He said this as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the street to hail a cab.

"I don't remember the cab ride." Molly stated once they were seated in the back of the cab. Sherlock smiled and took her hand. He had his gloves on but he took them off, wanting to feel her hand in his.

"You probably don't remember the ride because you had passed out." I had to carry to the cab and into your flat.

"Just gets better and better," she muttered under her breath.

"Yes it does." He squeezed her hand and smiled.

Molly looked at her hand in his and frowned in thought. After everything that may have happened yesterday, Sherlock had made no advances toward her other than to hold her hand. He had made no attempt to hold her or kiss her today, well not since this morning and this morning seemed like a world away. But even this was more than she had ever dared to hope. She was with the man she loved and he was holding her hand.

Emboldened by the alcohol Molly again heard herself asking him questions she normally wouldn't dare to ask. "Sherlock, did we…I mean, were we…" she faltered, trying to think of the right words.

Sherlock knew, of course, what she was getting at, "Ah, Molly, if I tell you that I'll ruin the end of the story."

Molly lapsed into silence once again just enjoying being here in this cab with Sherlock holding her hand.

When the cab pulled up in front of her flat they got out and stood on the sidewalk. Molly got her keys out and Sherlock took them from her. "We are still retracing our steps from last night." Molly gasped when he swept her off of her feet and lifted her easily into his arms. "I was carrying you."

Sherlock unlocked the door and carried her into the flat. Molly realized that she was holding her breath. They were coming to the end of the story.

He set her on the sofa and sat down next to her gathering her into his arms. Molly settled into him and waited expectantly. It took a few minutes for Sherlock to gather his thoughts. "I brought you back here last night and I didn't want to leave you alone, I was afraid you might be sick. I took you into the bedroom and put you to bed, then I came out here and took the sofa."

Molly looked up at him confused. He looked down into her questioning eyes. He needed to tread carefully to explain the rest. He didn't want to cause her any more embarrassment. He needed to make her understand how he had felt last night and that he was ok with how things had unfolded. He was lost in his thoughts and Molly prompted him.

"So, you undressed me when you put me to bed?" she asked quietly.

"No. You woke at some point and undressed yourself," he hesitated, "and then you came out here. I had fallen asleep and I woke up when you joined me on the sofa." Molly blushed, embarrassed once again at her brazenness.

"I'm so sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

Sherlock gathered her closer and turned her so he could look into her eyes. "I'm not," he said quietly. Molly was stunned by the intensity of his gaze. She forgot everything else and all that existed for her was this moment in time.

He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat. "You were quite insistent and I couldn't resist." Sherlock spoke barely above a whisper, his deep baritone sending a thrill up Molly's spine. She shivered. "I didn't want to resist." He leaned down and kissed Molly very gently. He pulled back slightly and spoke with his lips just touching hers, "I carried you to the bedroom where you undressed me." He took his hand and brushed her hair back securing it behind her ear then bent to whisper in her ear. Molly held her breath, "And then … you fell asleep."

Molly sat perfectly still. She was sure she had misunderstood. Sherlock chuckled and bent to kiss her on the neck, he was distracting her so that she could barely think. He lifted his lips for a moment, his mouth hovering over her sensitive skin, his breath causing her to shiver again. "You fell asleep in my arms and I decided to stay."

Great. She finally got Sherlock Holmes into her bed and she fell asleep. Unbelievable.

"Now, I didn't take it personally, but I do like to finish what I start." Molly looked down as Sherlock's long fingers moved to the front of her shirt and he slowly started to unbutton it.

"If that's ok with you?" She looked up into his eyes and not trusting her voice, could only nod.

But before the feel of Sherlock's hands on her body threatened to drive all ability for logical thought from her mind, and internally cursing herself, she reached up to stop him. He withdrew his hands and gave her a questioning look. "You've changed your mind?"

She quickly shook her head, "No. No. It's just…" _Idiot!_ _What the hell are you doing stopping him?_ He waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

"Sherlock, why? I…I mean…,It…It's not that…that I don't want … this…", she stammered terrified that putting her fears into words would scare him off, that all of this would suddenly disappear and she would be alone again. She could feel the anxiety building in her chest and her throat started to constrict. _God, If I keep talking I'm going to mess everything up!_ But Molly had to know, so she closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath.

Sherlock could see what this was costing her and that it was something she needed to say, so he waited as patiently as he could. But sitting there watching her struggling with her thoughts, he just wanted to grab her and hold her close to ease all of her anxiety. It was hard to keep his hands off of her, the only way he could keep them still was to take her hands in his.

Molly seemed to take a measure of comfort from the gesture and she opened her eyes and looked into his glorious blue green eyes, searching them as she tried again to explain. Her voice was steady, but very quiet, "Sherlock, I want this more than you could ever know," Her voice dropped to barely a whisper and she dropped her eyes, "Because I love you. I've always loved you." She didn't dare look up at him, she had never said those words aloud before and she felt them so deeply that her heart actually ached. A tear escaped and slipped down her cheek. "But I don't want this if it means that I might lose your respect or friendship. Because I don't think I could survive without you in my life, even if it's just meant to be as friends." She stopped and took a shaky breath.

She didn't see Sherlock smile. She didn't realize the effect her words had had on him. She could just wait in misery for his reply. This time she was giving him an out.

Sherlock knew that Molly was feeling vulnerable and completely exposed. She was laying her heart out before him and he owed her more than the wall he usually presented to the world, so he quickly put her out of her misery. He let go of her hands and tilted her face up to his, brushed her tears away with his thumbs and leaned in close and pressed his lips to her warm mouth. He kissed her very gently then pulled back to look deep into her eyes, "Molly, I don't take this lightly. I realize I have spent too long trying to deny how I feel about you. But I know that I want you Molly, I want you and I need you."

Her breathing was ragged and shallow, the tears were flowing freely now. Sherlock wrapped her in his arms and she rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. She noticed that his heart rate was increasing, that his respiration was becoming rapid and shallow. Molly looked up at Sherlock, at the desire in his eyes. He stood, lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He set her on the bed and lay down beside her. Molly opened her arms and pulled him closer.

Sherlock bent down and brushed his lips over her collarbone as he continued unbuttoning her shirt. He was very slow and gentle, he had waited too long for this to rush it. He was going to savor every detail of his pathologist, his Molly. He was going to make this a night she would never forget.


End file.
